


Into the Shadows

by bluerose5



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blackmail, Blood and Violence, Crime Lord Reyes, Crime Lord Scott, Dark, Family Issues, Implied past torture, M/M, Manipulation, Murder, Nudity, Organized Crime, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-28 20:50:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13911963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluerose5/pseuds/bluerose5
Summary: Scott wasn't always like this. He wasn't always some dreaded creature of the night. He once had hopes and dreams, aspirations for the days to come, but it wasn't meant to be. He was honed to be their perfect weapon, but carving away someone's humanity never works well.At least he has Reyes to see him through this, for better or for worse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THE TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING
> 
> Also, I feel it should go without saying, but I do not condone certain ideas portrayed in my works. This is pure fiction and speculation, nothing more. Due to the events in the story, Scott and Reyes have developed a relationship that absolutely SHOULD NOT be a framework for anyone else (hence the 'Unhealthy Relationships' tag). They have dependency issues and other problems, but I reiterate that this is a fictional exploration of characters and their relationships.
> 
> If I should add more tags for something I possibly missed, please let me know. Comments are welcome.
> 
> Enjoy the story.

**Part I**

            These nights are always the worst. Of course, nothing quite beats getting shot in some dark, dank alley, only to be left for dead in a pool of your own blood. The fact that Scott has had to patch up countless bullet wounds is proof enough, but nights like these deserve an entire category on their own.

            Sara just had to pick tonight, of all nights, to throw her special, little party.

            Not that Scott can necessarily blame her. Initiative Innovations is one of the largest —if not _the_ largest— companies in contemporary society that funds technological advancements, space exploration, and medical breakthroughs. Its purpose is for the overall enlightenment of the human race and blah, blah, blah…

            By now, Scott knows the company and its policies like the back of his hand, but —like their parents before them— his and Sara’s roles vary greatly in its overall expansion. Even as co-CEOs, Scott participates little in the public spectrum, as it should be. His father set quite the path for Scott to follow, one that ultimately ended in Alec’s death, so it’s no surprise that Scott’s career requires a bit more tact and a little less attention than that of his sister’s.

            Which makes tonight something of a nuisance to Scott’s sanity.

            The Initiative’s parties are nothing but events for posturing and grandstanding. Politicking and espionage tend to run rampant at these gatherings, and corruption just so happens to taint the air wherever you go. Scott normally doesn’t entertain the very thought of attending these get-togethers, but Sara was especially persistent.

            Obviously, Scott isn’t blind. After all, he was specifically “trained” to be the exact opposite —mostly because hypervigilance has its purpose in his line of work. Unfortunately, that same perceptive ability also comes with some major baggage.

            Scott knows that the emotional distance is bearing down on Sara’s conscience. He knows that, every time she glances his way, she does not see the baby brother that she toddled around with as a child. He isn’t that confused, emotional teenager that she punched a classmate for, all because that guy had idiotically antagonized Scott in front of her. Hell, Scott isn’t even the same man he was several years ago, proudly graduating business school with his twin —his hero— at his side.

            No, he’s not him, not anymore. That Scott died along with their parents. Scott, as he is now, is nothing more than a weapon, a shell of what he once was.

            Even then, Scott cannot deny that something within him _enjoys_ it now.  The lying, the scheming, the manipulation…The power. It’s an addiction, a high that he craves more and more with each passing day, and the shadows are starting to look more welcoming than ever before. Some days, it’s hard to find the light again. On other days, well, it’s hard to remember why he should even want to find the light.

            But he always does. For Sara, if not for himself.

            One of his two weaknesses left in this world, and both of them know how to pull his strings just right.

            Scott never would have come to this party otherwise, not even with this new piece of tech they’re unveiling, so it definitely doesn’t help his mood when Vetra texts him a few hours before his arrival, alerting him to a newfound situation over their secured channel. Apparently, there’s some suspicious cargo heading into port tonight, and Vetra’s people found some interesting intel on an upcoming meeting.

            That means that Scott will have to leave the festivities early enough to scope things out. While he wouldn’t be complaining under any other circumstances, Scott knows that he’s going to get shit from Sara about this, and that’s a migraine just waiting to happen.

            As the evening progresses among New York’s most elite clientele, Scott wanders the party with practiced grace, aware of the hungered eyes that follow his every step. One thing that Scott does enjoy about these parties is the mingling. He’s a master manipulator, and socializing is an art, especially when one is surrounded by the rich and powerful. Simply give them a touch here and some flattery there, feed their egos with loads of praise and admiration, and they’ll be blind to the web that you’re carefully spinning around them. By the time they finally notice the trap, Scott is already going in for the kill, and he does relish their expressions when they find themselves twisted and bound, settled into some new verbal agreement or unwilling partnership.

            Scott always walks away from those conversations, smirking victoriously to himself, ready to scout for the next prey of the night. _That_ is what he loves. Making the powerful powerless, molding them to do his bidding, as helpless as a zebra’s neck trapped between a lion’s maw, ready to be crushed at any moment.

            It is only when Scott notices a familiar figure floating among the crowd that he stops short, his composure and his smile slipping for a split second before it is forced carefully back into place.

            There, on the other side of the room, is no other than Reyes Vidal. He’s keeping to himself because of course he is. Keeping to the shadows, as he is wont to do.

            Undoubtedly, that means that Keema Dohrgun is floating around as well, drifting effortlessly among the massive waves of people, acting as the public face for Kadara Industries with confidence and prestige. After her former CEO mysteriously disappeared into an “early retirement,” Keema climbed the executive ladder with swiftness and brutality, securing her spot as Kadara’s COO. No one knows who currently acts as CEO.

            Nobody but Scott, at least.

            Reyes does treasure his secrecy, both in the business world and the criminal one.

            It is only a moment or two before Reyes notices Scott, but Scott believes that this is purposeful. He’s positive that Reyes had him tagged the moment he walked in, and this little dance of his is only meant to unnerve Scott.

            Scott hates that it actually works, and he silently fumes behind his mask while Reyes has the gall to grin at him. From the darkness, Reyes raises his glass of champagne in Scott’s direction, his eyes sparkling with promises of later.

            Reyes is Scott’s number one weakness, ranking even above Sara for reasons that Scott _does not_ want to think about, and the bastard knows it. He uses it, again and again and again, but the weakness isn’t one-sided by any means. Scott is just as likely to turn a situation around on Reyes, and they both know it. From the moment they met, their history has been one of rivalry and of respect. Eventually, it grew to something _more_ along the way, but neither man can resist a chance to show the other up at his own game.

            Unfortunately for Scott, Reyes has him at a bit of a disadvantage here. While Keema is busy playing the elite’s fickle games —and beating them greatly at it— Reyes is able to watch from the sidelines while Scott does the same thing, weaving and winding through the crowds with an objective in mind. Reyes is an unhealthy distraction, one that Scott cannot tolerate right now, so he does his best to continue on as he has been.

            Easier said than done…

            Once he knows that Reyes is there, it’s as if he has an unbearable itch that will not go away, no matter how hard he scratches it. Reyes has this way of burrowing under Scott’s skin, and he will typically stay there until he is content with himself.

            That only pisses Scott off more, and he becomes increasingly reckless in his dance with these elitist pricks. Some fail to notice, but others definitely do, swooping in like ravenous hawks to take advantage. Scott’s mood plummets, along with his confidence in his skills, and his words become crisp and tart as the evening progresses. Soon enough, he gives up on the manipulation, refusing to let Reyes tarnish his reputation any further.

            Instead, he turns to a different goal, a more satisfying one.

            Reyes knows how to get under Scott’s skin, but Scott knows how to get under Reyes’.

            When the drunken guests sidle up to Scott, eyeing him with a predatory gleam in their eyes, Scott stops thwarting their advances. Giggling heiresses and experienced women clutch at their pearls, nibbling playfully on their lips to gather his attention, while curious heirs and older men make it a point to touch him whenever possible, stroking his muscled arms with a lingering admiration. Scott plays this field as expertly as the previous one, laughing at the appropriate times and whispering at the right intervals.

            It’s enough to leave most either soaking their panties or tenting their pants in desire, appearing star-struck by Scott’s particular brand of charm. With a sly smile and a hooded gaze, Scott makes sure to leave while he is ahead. No one is getting a promise of an evening alone out of him, but his quest fulfills his purpose. When he glances back towards Reyes’ post, he is still standing there, but his jaw is clenched and his eyes are tightened.

            Grinning, Scott raises a glass of champagne to Reyes in a mockingly cheerful toast, tossing his earlier motions right back at him. It doesn’t escape Reyes’ notice that Scott’s champagne was so selflessly offered by one of his earlier admirers, so he merely glowers at Scott in return. Chuckling, Scott goes to foolishly take a sip, but he stops at the last second, his hairs standing up on the back of his neck.

            Something… doesn’t feel right, and Scott figures out exactly why when he pulls his glass away, only to watch dumbly while bubbles —way too many bubbles— fizzle throughout his drink.

            He’s hit by the overwhelming urge to throw the glass away, to watch as it hits the ground and explodes into a million shards. Part of him wants to watch while the lights fold through the crystal, casting rainbows all over the building’s marble floors. Part of him wants to find whoever dared to slip something into his drink and paint these exact same floors red with someone’s blood.

            Instead, Scott merely finds a plant to dump the champagne in, setting the remains on a waiter’s passing tray.

            By the time he turns around, Reyes is gone from his spot. Scott scowls in confusion.

            His comms choose that moment to come to life.

            “Ryder, you there?” Vetra whispers.

            Scott shuffles off to a solitary corner to answer. He presses a finger to his ear, glancing around for any unwanted bystanders.

            “I’m here,” Scott replies, his eyes flitting around in paranoia. No one appears to be listening in, but appearances only go so far.

            “Good. If I leave Sara to the vultures for too long, I’m going to get my ass handed to me later,” Vetra chuckles. Scott remains silent, awkwardly so, and she clears her throat. “Anyways…”

            “What’s the word on the shipment?” Scott asks, always one to get down to business.

            Vetra snorts in faux aggravation.

            “Oh, Scott, I’m doing wonderful tonight,” she says, as if Scott actually asked. “The party’s going great. Investors loved the big reveal, but how rude of me to go on like this. How has _your_ night been?”

            “Vetra,” Scott warns, tapping his foot while his eyes sweep back and forth with increased vigor. Wearily, Vetra sighs and relents.

            “Still don’t know the contents, but we have confirmation on _who_ is there,” Vetra says. Hearing the concerned tremor invading her voice, Scott’s foot immediately stops tapping. His ears start ringing with distress.

            “Outcasts?” he hisses, not wanting to confirm what he already knows to be true.

            The Outcasts were splintered long before Sloane’s death, many of them turning to the Collective for Kadara’s “salvation.” Scott had a hand in moving some of those particular pieces into place, but he and Reyes made one huge mistake. Sloane’s second-in-command, Kaetus, had somehow managed to escape them both. If the Outcasts are actually forming into something beyond a petty gang again, if they are actually getting involved in organized crime once more…

            Looks like Kaetus is getting tired of hiding.

            That simply won’t do.

            “Yes,” Vetra says. “Not a lot of them. My estimates range from three to six people, but that’s them alright.”

            “Probably don’t want to draw attention to themselves,” Scott reasons. “Besides, if they’re building their numbers up again, they wouldn’t want to send an entire force in.”

            “You’d know their minds better than me.”

            “Is the meeting still at the same time?” Scott asks.

            “As far as I can tell, yes,” Vetra answers. Scott nods to himself, thinking.

            “I should head out soon. I’ll ring you once I get there.”

            “Talk to you later then, and be careful.”

            Scott doesn’t say anything as he cuts the call.

            He takes a second to compose himself, taking a mental inventory of all the weapons on his person. He moves in natural, fluid ways to purposefully jostle each weapon, ensuring that they are there without anyone being the wiser.

            Scott is stealthily making his way towards the exit when Sara intervenes. Beyond her, he notices Keema and Reyes chatting amicably by the doors, nothing more than two friends catching up.

            Too bad that Scott knows those two too well.

            “Scott, there you are,” Sara announces, happily tipsy and immersed deep into her own mind. Scott steadies her, maneuvering them so that he is the one closest to the door.

            “Yeah, I’m here,” Scott says hoarsely, swallowing thickly, “but I have to go. Something came up.”

            Scott hurriedly glances over his shoulder, missing Sara’s wounded grimace. A swear slips free of his mouth when he spots Keema, all alone, with Reyes nowhere in sight. She catches his gaze and grins, waving playfully at him.

            “Scott, you promised,” Sara argues, but Scott is already pulling away.

            “I know,” Scott snaps, refusing to watch while Sara’s face falls dejectedly, “but I have a last minute appointment that I can’t miss.” He walks briskly away, talking over his shoulder. “Enjoy your party.” _This place isn’t for me._

             As he walks past Keema, she’s shaking her head at him, tsking in disappointment.

            “Oh, what am I going to do with you two love birds?” Keema sighs. Scott hesitates, listening, his hand faltering on the door. “You’re both going to end up tearing each other apart.”

            Scott bristles at that, grinding his teeth roughly together, wearing them away into dust.

            “Bite me,” Scott spits, shoving through the door.

            Keema’s laugh echoes in his mind as he leaves.

*****

            The steady tap of rain on wet pavement is like music to Scott’s ears, a familiar beat that swiftly locks in tandem with his heart. He strolls along the Howland Hook Terminal, his eyes searching rows upon rows of shipping containers. The port’s gates should technically be closed by now, but Scott is sure that no expense was spared in paying off the port authorities, just enough so that they would happily turn a blind eye on whatever deal was happening tonight.

            Scott spends the next thirty minutes scrutinizing the area, analyzing both vantage points and choke points alike. He identifies any cameras that might be worth monitoring, and he focuses on remaining in their blind spots. It’s unlikely that whoever let this occur tonight will allow the footage to see the light of day, but it never hurts to be cautious. Besides, if tonight goes as planned, Scott’s sure that his cleanup crew will be eager to earn a bit of a bonus.

            He only has to patrol for a few more minutes before he spots them. Pressing his back against a nearby container, Scott steadies his breathing, closing his eyes while he relaxes into complete and utter silence. He peaks around the corner once more and quickly counts them off. Two are walking around on lookout, paired off and attentive, but another two are waiting by the container. The latter couple is arguing about something, their voices way too low for Scott to hear, but there isn’t any sign of a sniper nearby.

            That’s all that Scott needs to know. Sticking to the shadows, he flits about from space to space in a deadly dance. He’s slowly but surely making his way towards their guards, moving around like a demon of the night.

            Once he is close enough, Scott brandishes his combat knife, wielding it with undeniable expertise. He picks up a stray rock, tossing it in his hand a couple of times before it’s thrown clear across the lot, dropping off somewhere with a loud _bang._ Disappearing into the darkness, Scott watches patiently while one of the men go to investigate. After he is out of the way, Scott takes his chance.

            He darts forward with only one goal in mind, and he wastes no time in completing it. It takes but only a second for Scott to pounce, slapping his hand securely over his victim’s mouth. Overhead, the lights glint wickedly off of his blade, Death winking flirtatiously at the wide-eyed recruit. Metal slices through skin like warm butter, spilling a pool of hot blood from the man’s jugular. It slides over Scott’s hand, a slick, ruby coating that Scott scowls at in distaste. He returns to the shadows, waiting for his next victim to emerge.

            When he does, he instantly spots his old friend, lying in an ocean of his own blood. He’s ready to call out to the others for help, but Scott can’t allow that, now can he? He takes a different tactic this time. Surprise is on his side, and he grapples with the stranger from behind until he has him entangled in a vicious chokehold. The man clearly knows what he is doing. He tries to bring his foot around, but Scott stealthily bats it away. He’s been trained to know all of these tactics and all of their counters. Alec spared no mercy in ensuring that he knew what he was doing.

            The elbow comes as a minor surprise. Not that Scott wasn’t expecting the blow to his side, but the force is impressive nonetheless. The man gets a couple more hits in, making Scott grunt in fury. Bloodlust pounds through his veins, and he wants to make the man suffer, tightening his hold impossibly so. Each consecutive blow gets weaker and weaker, and Scott grins sadistically. He pulls back at the last second, just long enough to slit the man’s throat wide open. Scott watches him fall to his friend’s side, eyes staring ahead unseeingly, and Scott eyes his handiwork emotionlessly, exchanging his knife for his pistol without delay.

            Turning on his heel, he casually strolls towards the others’ location.

            He hides in the shadows no longer. He has no reason to.

            When the recruit facing him notices his arrival, she gapes over her companion’s shoulder and scrambles for words.

            “Who—?”

            The bullet pierces through her skull before she can properly phrase the question. Her body hits the ground with a heavy _thunk_ , but Scott doesn’t have the time to think on that. Unfortunately for her, Scott isn’t some sort of villainous cliché, throwing out an insanely long monologue in order for them to turn the tides. He is a hunter, a killer, plain and simple. Killing doesn’t take as long as it does in the movies, and Scott is ever-efficient at what he does.

            His gun turns towards her companion. The man, now aware of the danger he’s in, struggles to aim his gun at Scott, but Scott doesn’t give him the opportunity, shooting him once in the shoulder and then again in the abdomen. The force and the pain knock the poor soul off of his feet, tumbling to the ground in a writhing heap, but Scott’s patience is running up. When the stranger reaches for his weapon again, Scott is already there, kicking it out of reach.

            The unknown man stares down the muzzle of Scott’s gun for one solid second, choking on a bloody laugh, his once white teeth now stained red with spittle.

            “Go ahead,” he coughs. “Do it.”

            “I don’t think so,” Scott says stoically, kneeling down to force a finger into the man’s open abdomen. The man wheezes in response, his face blanching with blood loss, and he collapses tiredly on the ground.

            Scott digs deeper in, unrelenting.

            “What’s in the shipment?” Scott asks politely, as if he is asking some random person about the weather. No answer comes, but Scott merely grins in response. “I’ll find out either way, but I do wonder what other information you hold.”

            That startles a laugh out of the man, starting weak and deep until it gradually expands into something rasping and hysterical. Startled, Scott stares at him incredulously until he notices the man bluntly flexing his wrist. Scott grasps it tightly, shoving the sleeve back in outrage.

            He drops the man’s arm like it’s on fire, grinding his teeth with his eyes ablaze. Scott knows that brand. He knows that affiliation.

            Collective.

            Another laugh escapes the spy, drawing Scott’s attention back towards that sneering face.

            “If you think that I’m betraying the Charlatan for you, then you’re out of your mind, sweetheart,” he says, spitting blood in Scott’s face.

            Scott wipes it away in disgust, fury temporarily sparking, but he knows that the man is right. For him to be an inside agent with the Outcasts, he has to be pretty far up on the Collective’s hierarchal ladder. That means that he has more than likely been conditioned to withstand the highest forms of torture, should he be compromised. Hell, most agents of that caliber have nothing to lose, and some of them have even been known to carry poison around for situations exactly like this.

            Forever loyal to a fault.

            Scott knows it, and he hates it. But there’s nothing to be gained here.

            No more words are shared. Scott merely stands, and the sound of his gun is all that remains in the dead of night.

            He takes one breath, two, three… Over and over, until his adrenaline somewhat settles.

            When he goes to the container, wanting to get in and out as quickly as possible, Scott stops short at what he finds.

            It’s- It’s _empty_ …

            Goddammit.

            “Well, well, well…” Scott’s spine goes ramrod straight within an instant, stiffening immediately once he hears _that_ voice settle in around him. Scott stands to his full height and glares at the intruder, his gun poised stiffly at his side. Reyes grins maliciously at that, taking in the scene with appreciative eyes. His eyes settle in on his fallen agent, humming in contemplation. “Someone’s been a bad boy tonight.”

            “Someone’s been a busy boy tonight,” Scott corrects, eyeing Reyes with distrust. “Still watching from the sidelines while others do your dirty work, huh, Reyes?”

            “You are so good at it,” Reyes says, eyeing Scott in return, gaze pointed and hungry. “And, let’s face it, you pull the look off so much better.”

            Scott snorts at his lover’s absurdity, holstering his weapon for safekeeping. He crosses his arms over his chest and stares.

            “So…” Scott says, trailing off.

            “So?” Reyes questions him, mocking him in delight.

            “Cut the crap, Reyes,” Scott sneers. “Where is it?”

            “Where is what?” Reyes asks innocently. “Oh—” He pulls a flash drive out of his pocket, dangling it in clear sight. Scott’s eyes follow it, hypnotized and fixated. Reyes laughs, knowing that he has the upper hand. “You mean this?”

            “Reyes,” Scott warns.

            “Cariño, honestly, you should be more worried about the little infestation problem you have than worrying over what I’m going to do with this.”

            Scott glowers at him in bewilderment. “What infestation problem?”

            Something akin to shock leaks into Reyes’ expression. He stares at Scott with pity. “So you don’t know.”

            “Know what?!” Scott snaps, taking a threatening step forward, growing tired of Reyes and his games.

            “That these are Initiative weapon plans,” Reyes informs him. “High-grade weapon plans at that, and there’s only one way that a group as disorganized as the Outcasts could’ve gotten their hands on something this valuable.”

            If they have someone on the inside…

            Great.

            “How do I know you’re not lying?” Scott asks, his hands clenching into fists. Clenching and unclenching, trying to find some way to expend this built-up energy.

            “Oh, please,” Reyes huffs, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “I think you’ve known me long enough to learn my cues, Scott. If not, then you might want to consider going into a different business.”

            “You would just love that, wouldn’t you?” Scott says, sniffing disdainfully. “No more Initiative to stand in the way of your precious Collective.”

            “Ha!” Reyes guffaws at that, challenging Scott head-on. “I think we both know that the Collective’s global forces could easily overpower the Initiative _if_ we wanted to.” Reyes’ smirk tightens, contorting into something more sinister. “You should remember that the only reason why the Initiative is operating in the States is because _I_ allow it. Of course…” The smile transitions back into its playful state, as if his calm demeanor never faltered. “You could always come work for me.”

            Scott snorts. “Yes, Reyes, insult my livelihood and then offer me a job underneath you. As eloquent as ever,” he deadpans.

            “Can’t blame a man for trying, especially if it ends with you being ‘underneath me,’” Reyes says, throwing Scott’s words right back at him. Scott ignores the heat building in his gut and continues on.

            “Reyes,” Scott says, taking another step forward. “Hand it over.”

            “As if you’re the one in power here,” Reyes scoffs. “Don’t do anything foolish, Scott. What are you going to do? Shoot _me_ , of all people?”

            “I’m tempted to,” Scott mutters in aggravation. Reyes lays a hand over his heart, as dramatic as always.

            “Oh, how you wound me.”

            “You’ll survive,” Scott sighs, “but we both know that we can strike a bargain.”

            “Well, I’m all ears,” Reyes replies, tapping his foot against the cold, wet ground.

            “We both know that the Collective and Kadara are good at what they do,” Scott says, understanding from experience that feeding Reyes’ ego will have him preening and compliant in no time, “but the Initiative’s specialty is in weaponry and tech. If we produce and sell those weapons at our quality with our name attached, buyers will be willing to pay more. _Much_ more, and more money means more profit for us.”

            “Provided we split the pay,” Reyes adds, following Scott’s line of thought.

            “It’s our best bet, and you know it,” Scott says, pushing in for the best compromise.

            “And what would be a fair split, in your eyes?” Reyes asks, grinning mischievously.

            Scott grumbles, knowing that it won’t work, but trying for it anyways.

            “Fifty-fifty.”

            Reyes is already shaking his head in amusement.

            “I don’t think so. You need to remember that I could just as easily pocket these schematics for myself and get one hundred percent of the profits from _my_ manufacturers. Sixty-forty, or I walk.”

            Scott stares at Reyes in irritation, but neither man is willing to back down. They both already know that Scott is going to cave first, simply because he refuses to leave those plans in Reyes’ hands alone. Surely the man has already sent some copies to Keema for safekeeping, but Scott cannot allow him to have such an advantage over him. If this is the only way for the Initiative to keep those plans…

            “Fine,” Scott huffs in agreement. This is a smug victory for Reyes, but Scott knows that the sacrifice is worth it.

            Reyes grins and tosses the flash drive at Scott. He snatches it out of the air and pockets it for the trip home. Reyes turns to walk away, winking at Scott over his shoulder.

            “It’s only business, mi amor. Try not to take your losses too personally.”

            “As humble as ever, Reyes!” Scott calls out to his retreating figure, shaking his head in exasperation.

            “See you soon,” is all Reyes replies before he disappears into the night.

            Scott kicks at a stray pebble and sends it flying, roughly running his fingers through his tangled hair. He grimaces when he remembers the blood on his hand, and he swears at everything and anything in sight.

            Eventually, he calms down enough to call in the cleanup crew.

            Once they arrive, he settles their payment for the night and leaves, disintegrating into the shadows without another sound.

*****

            Scott is showering when he hears the noise outside of his shower curtain. His body tenses, ready for an attack, when Reyes speaks up from outside.

            “You know, your security here is horrifying,” Reyes chuckles, making himself at home, perching on the edge of the tub. “I don’t understand why you haven’t bought yourself some fancy penthouse yet.”

            Scott takes a moment to slow his racing heart, watching the blood and grime slowly swirl down the drain.

            “The same reason you haven’t,” Scott explains, poking and prodding at his bruising ribs. “First of all, it’s way too showy for what we do. And second, it’s inconvenient to want something like that when all you do is hop from one place to the other.”

            “True enough,” Reyes hums in agreement. He hears Scott abruptly hiss in pain, having placed too much pressure on a tender area. Reyes feels his heart skip a beat without his permission, but he keeps his voice steady and detached. “You okay in there?”

            “’M fine,” Scott mumbles, breathing deeply through the discomfort.

            “Liar,” Reyes snorts, but he remains where he’s stationed. If he goes to baby Scott now, he’s sure it’ll do more harm than good.

            Scott doesn’t say anything in response. He simply continues on with wiping the blood away, scrubbing his body until it is clean of all of tonight’s sins. No evidence is left behind, and he eventually emerges with steam billowing out behind him. Reyes holds his towel hostage, causing Scott to huff in aggravation.

            “Seriously?”

            Reyes smiles at him in response, and his golden eyes still manage to somehow glow in the bathroom’s atrocious lighting. Right now, there’s something gentler, something more genuine, resting within them, and Scott has to look away for a moment to regain his composure.

            “Come here,” Reyes orders, gently yet sternly. Scott’s knees wobble at the command, weak and vulnerable, but he surges forward nevertheless.

            Reyes takes the time to dry Scott off. He’s thorough in assessing Scott’s body, never rushing and always attentive. His calloused fingers trail over Scott’s ribs, light and curious, but they eventually hit that sensitive spot that Scott found earlier. The pain is somewhat dulled now, but it still sends sparks throughout his skin. His hairs stand on end, heat pooling where once it was stagnant, and Scott knows that Reyes knows. It’s nearly impossible for them to keep anything away from each other, as attuned as they are now.

            Thing is, he doesn’t want to.

            Of course, it’s only a matter of time before Reyes notices the shadows underneath his eyes.

            Concerned, he touches the darkened skin, his brows furrowing.

            “You haven’t been sleeping,” Reyes states, not asks. Scott swallows, averting his glance.

            “It’s been a rough week,” Scott mutters defensively, looking at his feet.

            “A rough week without me,” Reyes clarifies. Scott glowers petulantly at the floor.

            “What do you want me to say, Reyes? That I _missed_ you?” Scott spits, hugging his arms against his chest. He could already hear his parents in his mind, berating him for being so useless, for being so weak. Sara never had to experience this struggle, this constant battle with oneself, and some part of Scott is so selflessly relieved by that. Another part despises her for it, for that innocent life that she leads, and that’s the exact same part that yearns to accept Reyes’ offer, to say “to hell with the Initiative” and join as the Charlatan’s right-hand man. That side seems to be getting louder these days. “That sometimes I feel as if I’m falling apart when you’re not there? That you’re the one person that has the power to make everything worse, but you’re the only thing that makes me feel human?”

            Scott doesn’t even feel the tears sliding down his face until it’s too late. His voice croaks, and a sob breaks free from his chest. Ashamed of the reaction, he tenses for a blow that will not come —not from Reyes, at least— and covers his mouth in horror.

            But Reyes is right there, ready to pull his hands away.

            “Don’t hide from me,” Reyes chastises him, reaching up to cup his cheek. “You know you never have to hide from me.” Scott nods weakly, and Reyes stands, pulling Scott against his chest. The loose-fitting tank top he has on smells fresh, and Scott greedily inhales his scent, clinging desperately to him. “Tell me why you don’t have to hide from me, Scott.”

            “Be-” God, Scott can barely get an answer out past his sniveling. How pathetic. “Because you think I’m beautiful.” Scott chuckles weakly. “You told me that the first day we met at Tartarus, even after I kicked your ass.”

            “You’re right about that, at least,” Reyes snickers, distancing himself from Scott in order to look into his eyes. “But I don’t _think_ you’re beautiful. I _know._ ”

            Scott rewards him with a wobbly grin. “You’re so cheesy.”

            “I prefer charming, but we can argue semantics later,” Reyes says, pulling Scott even closer. Reyes’ eyes soften, and he pecks Scott’s lips, lingering. “I love you, Scott.”

            “I know,” Scott whispers, trying not to get choked up even more. Reyes so rarely says that first, not out of lack of love, but out of years of keeping his cards close to his chest. Admitting feelings of any kind is a vulnerability, one that both of them are well-aware of.

            “Do you?” Reyes questions.

            “Yes, I do.” Scott sniffs, embarrassed and indignant. “And I love you too. I’m just… having trouble coping with what that means.”

            “You can always come with me, Scott. You’re the only one holding yourself back.”

            “I know,” Scott whispers, but he says no more on the subject, hinting that Reyes should drop it as well.

            Reyes studies his expression, unsatisfied with the answer but willing to wait.

            “Come on, cariño,” Reyes says, leading Scott back into the bedroom. “Your gorgeous ass is getting some sleep.”

            Instead of jumping into bed, as expected, Scott stubbornly plasters himself to Reyes’ side, holding on for dear life. Supple lips smooth into a pleading pout, and Reyes has to remind himself to remain strong. It doesn’t help when Scott throws his arms around Reyes’ neck, yanking him into a kiss with renewed fervor. Before Scott can start anything else, Reyes backs him into the bed and shoves him down with a weary huff. Scott’s hands immediately go to Reyes’ sweatpants, but Reyes bats them away in the nick of time

            “Not tonight,” Reyes states resolutely. He crawls under the covers, and Scott dutifully follows, curling greedily into Reyes’ arms.

            Reyes turns on the TV, flicking through the channels until he settles on some old football game that’s on. Scott continues to press kisses to Reyes’ jaw, his cheek, his neck…

            Reyes turns and captures Scott’s lips with his own, smiling into the kiss.

            “It’s time to sleep,” Reyes huffs, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he drags Scott closer, tangling their legs together.

            “So you keep saying.” When Reyes moves to pull away, Scott whimpers in need. His nails catch on Reyes’ skin, but he cannot find it within himself to care. “Reyes, please…”

            “You need sleep,” Reyes retorts.

            “I know,” Scott whimpers, but he’s so touch-starved right now… “I don’t mean sex. Just-just keep kissing me.” Scott latches onto Reyes’ lips again, moaning softly, and he moves in to nibble at Reyes’ ear. “God, I’ve missed you so much.”

            “Did you?” Reyes teases, his voice dripping with an underlying darkness. “I couldn’t tell from earlier.”

            Ah, he means the party.

            “You know I was just trying to make you j-jealous,” Scott stutters, distracted once again when Reyes begins to smother his neck with open-mouthed kisses. His teeth are relentless, sinking deep into pale skin, causing patches of black and purple to blossom in their wake. His tongue follows quickly behind, soothing yet unapologetic. Scott stretches his neck out, panting for more. “I can’t even see past you anymore.”

            “Good,” Reyes whispers, “because I don’t like to share.”

            The next bite is rougher than the last. It burns, but the sting of pain is good. It— _Reyes_ makes Scott feel so alive.

            “Yes,” Scott hisses, his hips jerking with a will of their own. Reyes grasps them tightly, holding them in place, but Scott’s mind is already plummeting, spiraling out of control. He cries out in frustration, tears falling without his permission. “Mark me. I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours….”

            He babbles on, too many insecurities and too many demons taking control. He’s no longer sure what he’s saying or what he’s doing anymore.

            Reyes holds him close, their bodies molding together into their very own masterpiece. Despite all of the lying and the scheming, Reyes remains Scott’s constant in all of this. He’s the North Star to a man lost at sea, simply wanting to get home, but Scott wouldn’t trade what they have for anything. They’re both broken men in their own ways, men who probably bring more bad than good into the world, but neither will give up on the other. They’re in this together until the end, whatever that may be.

            “Shh…” Reyes shushes him, cradling his lover with all of the care in the world. “I know, mi amor. I know.”

            “I love you so much,” Scott whimpers, broken and tiny. The “too much” remains unspoken, tossed in the air between them, but Reyes hears it nonetheless. He chooses to ignore it for now, not willing to pay it any mind.

            “And I love you as well.”

            And, truth be told, that’s all either of them ever needs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part II**

**1 year later**

            It’s as if some things never change.

            Scott is posted outside of one of the Initiative’s New York offices. He stands there for so long, unaware of the passage of time and people. Passerby skirt around him, dodging him with ease and paying him little mind. Some people stare, some unabashedly so, but no one cares to interrupt him.

            It's windier today, cooler. Snow threatens to fall, but that's not anything new.

            Time passes, and eventually Scott enters.

            The interior is as sleek and pristine as all of their other offices. It's little more than a façade, one that grates against Scott's nerves, but he is in no position to be giving advice on interior decorating. If anything, he is more likely to set such a place on fire than to make any improvements to it.

            His thoughts are interrupted by a polite cough, and Scott glances toward the area’s secretary, sparing her little thought. When she notices who she is addressing, she fumbles over herself in a panic.

            Scott smiles wryly, but he keeps his laughter to himself.

            He can be a gentleman.

            Sometimes.

            Despite his reassurance, however, the woman continues to trip over herself in an attempt to please him, offering this and that while Scott cuts to the chase.

            He wants to see his fellow CEO  _now_ , and no argument is given in response. The secretary simply rushes to call him in, but Scott is already heading to the elevators, unwilling to wait around for Sara's permission. The elevator ride is about as boring as expected, but Scott steps out onto his floor with the utmost confidence.

            This visit is unnecessary. Scott knows exactly why Sara invited him today, but he's not budging on his stance anytime soon. He's had enough of standing by, watching and waiting from the darkness. It's his time to start making greater decisions. Of course, said decisions might be made to further his own agendas, instead of the Initiative's, but Scott never claimed to be selfless.

            As soon as he walks through the door to her office, Sara slams her phone into the receiver, enraged and disappointed. She focuses on Scott as soon as he makes his appearance, scowling in distress.

            "Scott-" Sara starts, but Scott isn't hearing it. He takes a seat and leans back, putting his feet on her desk. The perfect image of ease.

            "Sara, lovely day, isn't it?" Scott asks sarcastically, grinning widely at her disapproving expression.

            She crosses her arms over her chest, refusing to play his games.

            "It was until I received some very enlightening news," Sara says. When Scott merely raises an eyebrow at her, indifferent to her inner turmoil, she fumes. " _Apparently-"_ She grits her teeth. "Someone arranged for a partnership between the Initiative and Kadara Industries. I've received several calls of congratulations from our investors, along with a friendly chat from Keema Dohrgun herself."

            "Nice to know she received the contract," Scott states, trying but failing to cover his amusement at his sister's anger.

            "You think this is funny?" she snaps, her anger finally bubbling over, reaching its breaking point. Scott's grin turns menacing in return.

            "As a matter of fact, yes, I do. Thanks for asking," Scott sneers, his upper lip curling in distaste.

            Sara throws her hands up in frustration, laughing hysterically.

            "You're kidding me, right? Please tell me that you're fucking joking, Scott. Why in the hell would you sell out to Kadara?!" Sara yells. "You have no right!"

            That sends Scott's blood boiling beneath his skin. Just as quickly as he sat down, he darts up and out of his chair, leaning threateningly across Sara's desk.

            "On the contrary," Scott states, his voice chillingly calm, "I have every right to do as I damn well please. Do I need to remind you that I legally own fifty percent of this company? If your memory is that awful, I can always have my lawyers dig up that old stack of papers."

            Even when confronted by such a challenge, Sara refuses to be intimidated.

            "But that's the thing," she retorts. "You only own fifty percent. You _have_ to consult with me on things like this."

            "Do I?" Scott laughs. "Sure, similar to how you've always consulted with me over these past few years. Every decision was made with my opinion taken into account, correct?" When Sara winces, Scott sinks his claws in at that first sign of weakness, refusing to let go. "Plus, we wouldn't want the public to know how dirty the Initiative's hands are, now would we?"

            Sara narrows her eyes at Scott in disbelief.

            "You're blackmailing me?" she croaks, scoffing at the sheer absurdity of it all. "Seriously? Your own sister?"

            "Was I being too subtle?" Scott questions, completely serious for once.

            Sara is about to retort when her secretary frantically buzzes in over the phone again, announcing the arrival of a man for Scott. Before Sara can reject the invitation, because they're clearly busy, Scott stands tall in excitement. His eyes take on a dreamy, faraway quality, and he actually  _smiles._ A real, genuine smile. One that hasn't been on that face in years.

            Shock leaves Sara paralyzed in its wake. By the time she recovers, Scott is at her door, speaking lowly to this mystery man.

            Sara clears her throat, and Scott's spine stiffens.

            "Not gonna introduce us?" Sara asks, although she's not expecting much at this point, so it surprises her further when Scott and the man enter together after exchanging a few words and a pointed nod.

            The man in question is handsome enough. Sara will give him that, but her eyes cannot help but stray to Scott at every possible moment. He's... enamored. He stares at this stranger as if he hung the sun and the moon himself. His look is one of utter devotion, pressed to the point that something seems off. Whatever it is leaves a sour taste in Sara's mouth, and her gut curls in on itself in protest.

            Scott steps forward, clutching possessively at the stranger's arm, and that's when the light catches on Scott's left hand. Sara glances down at the reflection’s source, and...

            Oh no.

            "Sara," Scott breathes, sounding quite breathless now that his partner is here. "This is Reyes, my husband."

            It's like a slap to the face how quickly everything falls into place. How everything about Scott suddenly makes sense, all from a few words. The epiphany isn't gradual or subtle. It's an onslaught of puzzle pieces falling recklessly into place, shoved together to make sense of it all.

Sara gulps, keeping her distance from them, even going so far as to take another step back. That cautious step is the damning factor of the evening. Tensing, Scott hones in on the movement with those all-seeing eyes, and some hurt bleeds through for a split second before an unsettling coldness takes over. He regards Sara stoically, almost as if they've never met before, and it hurts.

            "So that's how it's going to be," Scott says icily, his fingers digging in until his knuckles are pure white. Reyes whispers something softly to him, but Sara ignores it, staring sadly at her brother.

            "Are you even a Ryder anymore?" she warily asks, not knowing what else to say, but those are obviously the wrong words.

            Scott barks out a laugh.

            "Ha! I haven't been a Ryder for years, Sara. You're just the last to see it," he hisses. "But, to answer your question, no, that name is gone. I have a new one, but it's not for you to know." Scott smirks. "It's best that some things are kept secret, after all."

            There used to be no secrets between them. Sara feels her ire rising, and she glowers at both of them, focusing specifically on Reyes.

            "So this is why you've been acting different lately." Sara shakes her head, shoving a finger at Reyes in disbelief. "You're betraying your family, and for what? For  _him?"_

            Scott shuffles in front of Reyes protectively, even though they both know that he doesn't need it. Reyes tries to diffuse the situation, but Scott refuses to leave. He refuses to watch Reyes go, tightening his grip.

            "You still don't get it, Sara. You'll  _never_ get it," Scott snarls. "You and Ellen and Alec... You did this to me! You sat aside for the sake of 'duty' to our family. You knew the things that they were doing to me, and you chose! You chose to turn a blind eye. You chose to turn your back on your own brother."

            "I-I-" Sara stutters, at a lost. "If only you would have come and talked to m-"

            "Shut up!" Scott screeches. He lunges for her, but Reyes holds him back, whispering urgently into deaf ears. "Don't you get it yet? This isn't something you can  _talk out._ This is me now, whether you like it or not."

            "Okay," Sara whispers in fear, trying for a new tactic, "but is selling out to Kadara the only way to get through this?"

            "It is as long as I say so."

            "What's that supposed to mean?" Sara snaps, suddenly on edge.

            "It means that I'll live up to my earlier promise. Either you work willingly with Kadara Industries, or I'll make sure that all of the Initiative's dirty laundry is broadcasted to the world. I'll even make sure that it's all tied back to you, sis." Scott's grin is downright evil at this point. "Consider it a gift."

            "You don’t even see how far you've fallen," Sara whispers in distress.

            "Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet," Scott chuckles, his voice as smooth as silk, his tone as sinister as the Devil himself. "But you did get one thing right, at least. Family doesn't betray family, but what you and the rest of the world need to realize is that family doesn't start and end with fucking bloodlines." Scott's eyes film over, and his voice cracks, little more than broken glass. " _Family_ doesn't do the shit that our parents did to me. Blood can only excuse so much, but I know who my real family is." Scott places a hand over one of Reyes’, squeezing, needing it to tether him back to the real world. It would be so easy to escape right now... "I know where my loyalties lie, and it's not with the Ryders. Not anymore."

            If Scott spends the last of his days dismantling the Initiative from the inside-out, then so be it, but he will rip it apart piece by fucking piece if he has to. He'll watch one empire crumble to preserve the next, but he'll keep that bit of information to himself.

            Sara doesn't deserve to know his plans. She lost that privilege long ago.

            Unbeknownst to her, the Initiative underground has already begun integrating into the Collective for the past several months. Little resistance has been met, considering most are loyal to Scott, but those that posed a real threat were given a choice to freely submit or... be dealt with.

            Scott smiles, unafraid.

            "Just something to keep in mind, Sara," he says, pulling away from Reyes. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go get some air."

            Before anyone else can interject, Scott rushes off, leaving his sister and his husband alone.

            Sara is the first to speak up.

            "You-" She sneers in disgust. "You did this."

            Reyes laughs at this woman's gall.

            "No," he snickers, his amusement shrouded in bitter hatred. "You did this to yourselves. Despite what you think about me, I love Scott more than anything. Some might say I love him too much."

            "'Might'?" Sara asks incredulously. Reyes shrugs, unapologetic.

            "I love him enough that I have killed people for lesser transgressions than what you and your family put him through," Reyes says, glaring pointedly at her. "Unfortunately, he still holds some attachment for you. I won't do anything to you that will end up hurting him. Yet."

            "Just going to openly admit to murder, huh?" Sara asks, ignoring the blatant threat. This man doesn’t deserve her fear.

            "As if anyone would believe a word you said. As far as this world is concerned, I don't even exist, so do have fun trying to convict a ghost of murder. I'm sure you will have a great time," Reyes taunts, his eyes darkening with threat. "Besides, I didn't have to convince Scott of anything. _He_ came to _me_ with the proposition, and I simply welcomed him with open arms."

            "Yeah, I'm sure you’re so innocent," Sara deadpans.

            "Now, I never said that," Reyes says, "but you'll have to excuse me. I need to check on my husband, since someone so kindly upset him." On his way out the door, he stops. "Have a nice day, Miss Ryder. It'll be a shame to have it suddenly ruined."

            Without waiting for a response, Reyes departs.

*****

            As soon as they walk into their apartment, Scott groans in frustration, trudging stiffly to the bedroom while Reyes follows closely behind. He throws himself onto their bed with a heavy huff, sliding free of his clothes and burrowing underneath their sheets. Memories and voices clog his thoughts, but Reyes is right there, as observant as ever.

            Scott peaks out from his fortress when he feels Reyes' weight shift the bed. He peels the covers back so that Reyes can settle in alongside him. He snuggles into Scott’s front, tangling their legs and intertwining their bodies. At this point, Reyes' clothes are gone as well, but it doesn't ignite lust like it usually does, just an undeniable sense of belonging. Although their sex life is satisfying, Scott lives for the little moments like these, full of love and commitment and intimacy.

            It makes him never want to leave.

            "Hey," Reyes whispers, stroking a finger along the apple of Scott's cheek. Scott smiles bashfully.

            "Hey," he says, leaning into the touch.

            "Are you okay?" Reyes asks. He continues his ministrations, but his fingers eventually tease their way into Scott's hair.  Each dark brown strand is brushed back with the utmost care, but Reyes sometimes lingers in a certain spot, pulling with the perfect amount of pressure.

            Scott's scalp tingles when he answers. 

            "I'll be fine." He gives a nonchalant, one-shouldered shrug, even knowing that Reyes can read him like an open book.

            There's no hiding anything between the two.

            "Not what I asked," Reyes chides, chastising him softly.

            "I know," Scott sighs, moaning loudly when Reyes reaches behind him to knead the tension in his neck. "But I-" Scott falters and grumbles. He doesn't want to be a burden, but he can't exactly lie to Reyes either. "I'm coping." Might as well be completely honest. "You make things better."

            And damn it all to hell, but Reyes practically beams at that, putting the sun to shame with all of his radiant joy. Of course, he tries to hide it and save face, but Scott knows.

            He always does.

            Scott traces some scars along Reyes' chest, passing through some rough patches of hair.

            "I don't know what I'd do without you," Scott whispers lowly, unwilling to break the peace.

            "Good thing you won't have to find out," Reyes says. He picks up Scott's roaming hand and brings it to his lips. Light kisses are spread all over his battered knuckles, and Scott can't help but to smile. "Besides, I like to think that I'm the lucky one here."

            "Well, we'll just have to agree to disagree then."

            "Perhaps," Reyes allows, but he cannot hide his loving grin. He cannot hide how those golden eyes melt into something immeasurably affectionate, how he gravitates towards Scott, as if he's the center of his universe.

            Scott considers what he's about to say, but he doesn't want to linger on it too long. If he did, he would never work up the courage to spit it out.

            "Let's run away for a while," Scott murmurs, catching Reyes' heated gaze. "Take a break from it all, have a real honeymoon..."

            "I do owe you one, don't I?" Reyes jokes. The fact that he doesn't outright reject the idea is victory enough for Scott. However, Reyes' voice turns serious once more, so Scott focuses in on him. "Do you think it will help? A vacation?"

            "I do," Scott says. He doesn't offer anything more, so Reyes simply nods in contemplation, zoning out while his mind races with things to do.

            "Then we'll go," Reyes promises. "I'll need to make arrangements tonight, as should you, but I'm sure Keema will happily manage things while we're away."

            Scott stares silently at Reyes, part of him not wanting to believe it.

            "Thank you," Scott says in earnest, crushing Reyes against his body. He buries his nose into Reyes' throat, breathing deeply. "Thank you."

            "Anything for you, mi amor, but you still haven't said _where_ you want to go.”

            "Anywhere, as long as you're there."

            Feeling his face heat up, Reyes chuckles, clearing his throat.

            "And you call me cheesy," Reyes laughs, but his hold on Scott is just as strong. "Well, wherever you go..."  _You know I'll follow._

            Although he doesn't say the words aloud, Scott hears them nevertheless.

            Scott smiles serenely, sealing the promise with a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
